RaveThe Los Angeles Review of BooksThis negotiation between received \'truths\' and capital-T Truth is the work of every memoir, one could argue, but Fitzgerald’s project of openhearted self-interrogation still feels refreshing in a culture where men are socialized to bury their pain, or worse, turn it back on the world as misplaced resentment ... Amidst the pain, Fitzgerald is entertaining and often funny as he reveals how his anger and hunger for validation found risky outlets ... At times, the essays in Dirtbag, Massachusetts fold back on themselves in ways that can feel recursive. But this is what trauma does: it refuses to go away; it demands revisiting. In their casual, looping trajectories, some of Fitzgerald’s essays seem to mimic active processing, like a heart-to-heart over beers. It takes a great deal of trust to commit one’s shames — and more than that, the shames of others — to the page with honesty. Messily, lovingly, Fitzgerald lays it bare.
